from cinque terre

"I sat in on the wet forest floor. It doesn't matter if mud get caught in my jeans the walk in the heavy rain would probably wash it clean before I reach the next town. Bag, camera, shoes, map.. everything's wet. Where is the great coastal view that the website promised? Like a horse with visors on, my field of vision was limited by the hood over my head. Hiding my rain-and-sesame-coated sandwich under my jacket, I turned, facing the rain, to look at the Mediterranean sea. I was hoping to see a blurred thin line separating the sky from the sea. It was like as if God knew what I was thinking and highlighted the horizon in bold for me. The thick greyish cumulus clouds squared with the menacing deep blue sea, trying to squeeze the middle lighted section into non existence. It was like as if God's highlighter was fading as I witnessed the thinning of the bright stretch. Storms in the Italy's Mediterranean brew as fast and as strong as how the italians brew their coffee. Within minutes, the clouds touched the sea.

I marched on. I better get out of here before night fall."

"cat 3"-cj

cinque terre 16/09